Twice Dead
by lunaerum
Summary: It takes three weeks after he's told he's the Master of Death for Harry to accidentally revive a vampire named Godric and because he's Harry, he can't just revive a vampire - no, he has to to go and accidentally bind the two of them together to the point where taking more than a few steps away from each other causes physical pain. Seriously, who did Harry piss off in a past life?
1. It's A Hard Knock Life

**Disclaimer** : Don't own anything but the fic idea/writing

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 **Summary** : It takes three weeks after he's told he's the Master of Death, by Death _itself_ , for Harry to accidentally revive a vampire named Godric and because he's _Harry_ , he can't just revive a vampire - no, he has to to go and accidentally bind the two of them together to the point where taking more than a few steps away from each other causes physical pain. Seriously, who did Harry piss off in a past life? Harry/?

Okay, so I'm watching True Blood and while I have a few more xover ideas, this one kinda hit me in the face last night at 4am and when I woke up, I had to write it. It'll probably be a mix of humor and more serious stuff and my only excuse for Death is that I was watching Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives while I wrote this and I'm kinda tired of Death being written as a morbid, mean entity. Where are the Deaths that are weirdos who make equally weird references? In this fic, I guess.

I moved around the HP timeline for this fic. Because I can and it makes more sense this way.

Also I'm still in the beginning of season 2 and haven't even met Godric yet, so it might be awhile before the next chapter. I just had to write this before I wrote anything else for my other fics.

Also, I'm about halfway done with the next chapter of Ash & Dust, so expect that later this week. I haven't abandoned it. I won't abandon any of my fics, I promise.

 **Warning(s)** : Vampires doing vampire things (later in the story) and more of Death being a weirdo.

 **Pairing(s)** : Don't know what I want to do on this front. Do I do Eric/Harry/Godric? Godric/Harry? Who knows. Leave me a review and let me know what you think! Also, I'm planning on pairing Pam with a gal from HP, so let me know who you'd like to see her with as well!

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 **Chapter 1** : _It's A Hard Knock Life_

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Death comes to him three months after Voldemort is vanquished.

It's a sunny Saturday morning and Harry had been debating on whole wheat or white bread for his toast, when there's a displacement of air right behind him, along with the faint smell of blueberries. War-honed paranoia has him turning in less than a second, wand in hand, spell on his lips. But instead of firing off a few of the most devastating spells in his arsenal, he blinks and lowers his wand, a wave of frustratingly odd familiarity staying his hand, although he's absolutely sure he's never seen the other person in his life. Unaware, or perhaps uncaring, of his dilemma, the person sitting on his table barely arches an eyebrow at him, before going back to eating a bowl of blueberries, brown skin dyed darker by the juice.

Neither of them speak.

The person sitting on his table, who looks both more familiar and unfamiliar as time goes on, quietly finishes the rest of the blueberries before setting the bowl aside and wiping sticky fingers on Harry's table.

Harry watches it happen with an absent-minded thought of how much concussive force a _bombarda_ would pack if lobbed right at a human-being, rather than an object.

"Right." The person says, dark eyes darkly amused. "We need to have a talk."

* * *

"No." Harry says firmly. "That can't be right. I don't have the wand or the stone anymore. I left them in places no one would find so this would never happen. There has to be some sort of mistake."

"I don't make mistakes," _Death_ says, because this is Harry's life now – Death in his dining room telling him he's the Master of Death and eating blueberries and wiping sticky fingers on Harry's table.

Harry just stares.

Death rolls its eyes. "Alright. Sometimes I make mistakes. But this isn't a mistake."

"Well. I don't _want_ to be the Master of Death. Can't you … make someone _else_ the Master of Death?"

There's a pause. Death looks contemplative. Harry begins to hope that for once, his life won't be an absolute nightmare.

"No." Death looks more amused than Harry thinks it has the right to be.

"Why _not_?" Harry asks, admittedly a bit petulant.

"Because my existence is _boring_ and I take my entertainment where I can get it." Harry thinks that might be an insult, though Death continues before Harry can think on it further. "And even if I _could_ give this to someone else, I wouldn't. I _like_ you, Harry."

"Um …" Harry isn't quite sure what to say to that. "Thank you?"

"You're welcome." Death smiles brightly, still managing to look like a smarmy, sarcastic bastard. "I have to leave – but oh, wait. Just remembered that I should tell you that you might … accidentally revive someone eventually. Vampires are easiest, because they've already been dead and revived once before, but a simple stake to the heart fixes that if you want them dead again." At Harry's horrified look, Death scoffs. "Oh, don't _look_ at me like that, I'm just telling the truth. Anyway, I have to go – I think Guy Fieri kicked the bucket."

"… what?"

"Just _kidding_. He's immortal."

And just like that, Death vanishes with less fanfare than Harry had been expecting, leaving behind the dirty bowl that had been home to blueberries.

"You left behind your bowl!" Harry shouts in the middle of his dining room, feeling just a tad ridiculous. "I'm not going to wash it if you don't come and get it! I'll – I'll throw it out!"

Unsurprisingly, there's no response.

(Harry, does, in fact clean the bowl. He leaves it on the table before going to bed and when he wakes, it's gone.)

* * *

Harry wakes slowly, as he never does, riding the waves of sleepy contentment as long as he's able before his brain registers that there's a strange weight on the other side of his bed that means –

There's someone else in the bed with him.

His eyes snap open at that thought, mind running through a thousand scenarios of a fan somehow destroying his wards to climb into his bed, which would sound ridiculous if it weren't for the type of fan mail he receives. He grapples for his wand that's sitting on his bedside table, but he's still half asleep even with adrenaline running through his veins, and rather than pick up his wand – he knocks it to the ground.

When the sound doesn't prompt any movement from the other side of the bed, Harry chances a look at the person who snuck into his bed – but only after grabbing his wand from the floor and heaving himself back onto his bed.

The person looks around Harry's age and definitely isn't someone he recognizes, with short ash-blond hair and skin almost as white as Harry's sheets. Harry doesn't know if that's a good thing, but it's certainly better than finding Colin Creevey, or that waitress from the Leaky Cauldron who just stares at him and doesn't blink while he eats his meal. Hesitantly, Harry begins to reach over to wake the intruder up but stops immediately when he realizes the other person isn't breathing and unbidden, he remembers his conversation with Death a few weeks ago.

Harry's wards are impenetrable. Hermione, Harry, and Bill had made sure of that. There's no way that some fan of Harry's managed to get through them and get into Harry's bed without Harry waking. That means that … Harry accidentally revived a vampire. Probably.

"Oh, _no_ …" Harry says feelingly, choking back the urge to shriek when he finally notices that the vampire isn't wearing a shirt – and likely isn't wearing anything on his bottom half – meaning there's a newly revived, _naked_ vampire in his bed.

Somehow, the naked part is worse than everything else.

Harry chances another glance at the vampire, then one up at his ceiling. "What," he says quietly. "Did I _ever_ do to deserve this?"

And just like that morning three weeks ago, there is no response.

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 _Fin_ ... (for now)

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Next chapter will have Godric waking up and misunderstandings happen as Godric and Harry discover they're bound together.

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I'm lunaerum over on tumblr! Check me out and feel free to follow me if you'd like. I'm also lunaerum over on twitter!

Review if you'd like! Feel free to tell me what you think about this xover and what pairings you'd like to see in this fic!


	2. A Bond Stronger Than Death

**Disclaimer** : Don't own anything but the fic idea/writing

* * *

 **Summary** : It takes three weeks after he's told he's the Master of Death, by Death _itself_ , for Harry to accidentally revive a vampire named Godric and because he's _Harry_ , he can't just revive a vampire - no, he has to to go and accidentally bind the two of them together to the point where taking more than a few steps away from each other causes physical pain. Seriously, who did Harry piss off in a past life? Harry/?

So, I completely lied about this taking awhile to get out, but I can't stop writing for this. I probably don't have best grasp of the TB characters, but it'll come to me eventually. I had to write this.

Next, I'm probably going to write something based on the first chapter of _**A Series of Harry Events**_ **,** so you should definitely check that out!

 **Warning(s)** : Vampires doing vampire things, angst, Harry's awkwardness.

 **Pairing(s)** : I think I'm committed to Eric/Harry/Godric for this fic, just because the idea of Eric being protective of Harry and Godric is so incredibly cute to me. Also, Pam/Luna, I think.

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 **Chapter 2** : _A Bond Stronger Than Death_

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Harry stays in bed for the rest of the day.

His four poster bed has charmed black-out curtains to shield against sunlight – which is ironic that he'd gotten them and a vampire had ended up in his bed, but the truth was that Harry had been conditioned to find the complete and total darkness comforting.

As a child, though he recognized that his schoolmates likely didn't have their cousins living in the cupboard under the stairs and that it was probably abuse, his cupboard was the only place he'd ever felt completely safe. Sure, he had been shoved into his cupboard more times than he could count, but neither Vernon nor Petunia had ever breached that safe space and the darkness was his only reprieve from the Dursleys' ill-treatment. As he grew older, he found himself more and more appreciative of the safe haven the Dursleys had unwittingly provided and though he was glad to get a room at eleven, the first few nights nearly had Harry panicking. There was much too space and the room never got dark enough and it wasn't as cozy as his cupboard – but he learned to deal with it. Learned to adapt, as he always did, and he didn't dare complain about his room or how he didn't feel comfortable at all in a room that wasn't pitch black.

Harry knew the Dursleys would hardly care.

At Hogwarts, there was little Harry could do other than close his curtains and grit his teeth and hope for the best. It was never easy those first few weeks and often, he was able to attribute lack of sleep to nightmares caused by his scar. He never told Hermione or Ron the real reason why he never slept well at school. He knows that they would've done their best to make him comfortable, but the small part of him that hasn't ever healed from his treatment at the hands of the Dursleys always thought that they might've poked fun at him. Which is ridiculous, because Hermione and Ron are the best friends he's ever had and aside from a few bumps in the road, they've done nothing but support him. Still, he doesn't know if he could've survived their laughter or ridicule. So, he never told them. And he doesn't think he ever will.

Now, however, he had the means to cater to his ridiculous whims and he does so, even though he really should've gotten over them after reaching his majority. But he hasn't, and it's really not that big of a deal to buy black-out curtains and charm them against sunlight, to curl up in his bed and bask in the complete and total darkness.

Besides, it seems that treating himself to the absurdly expensive magical curtains had paid off. Sunlight is surely streaming in through the window beside his bed, but to Harry, it still feels like the dead of the night enclosed in his charmed curtains. Harry debates on getting up for a good five minutes before deciding against it, one part laziness and one part worry over his guest. Though he's fairly certain that if he got out of bed quick enough and shut the curtains after him, the tiniest bit of sunlight wouldn't burn the vampire – if that's what he even was, because for all Harry knew, he was sharing his bed with a corpse. Well. A dead corpse, rather than an undead one – but Harry wasn't sure if he wanted to take the chance.

So he doesn't.

Instead, he simply summons a few books, casts _tempus_ once or twice, and waits.

* * *

The vampire wakes slowly, just as Harry did, and distantly Harry wonders if this the norm for the other man, or if it's rare, just like it is for Harry himself. Then Harry wonders if the vampire is the violent type and if he should've taken Death's advice before he got himself killed.

(Harry scraps that thought as soon as it's been formed in his head. To kill someone for what they were was a terrible, disgusting form of prejudice, and he'd have been no better than the people that scorned Remus all those years he was alive if he'd have staked the vampire before he even woke simply for being a vampire.)

As Harry waits for the vampire to wake completely, he struck by the, admittedly strange thought, that perhaps he should've changed into something more formal. He's still wearing his pajamas, which consisted of an over-sized shirt that he thinks he might've stolen from Ron, but can't quite remember is that's true, and a pair of drawstring sweatpants, that are comfortable, but aren't the prettiest thing. Harry shakes that thought off as well and wonders what the hell's wrong with him, but Harry thinks that maybe having a naked vampire in his bed might be making him nervous.

Which is probably an understandable reaction.

Feeling the slightest movement from the other side of the bed has Harry turning to look at his guest and he jumps when he realizes the vampire is indeed awake, and looking at Harry with curious eyes. "Oh – hi?" When the vampire doesn't speak, Harry averts his gaze to the pile of clothes he'd gotten from his closet and the bags of blood he'd had his house elf, Mimi, go get. "Here," he says, pushing the items towards the vampire. "I'm Harry … it's … nice to meet you."

The vampire doesn't respond.

Awkward silence reigns.

"Thank you, but … I'm not hungry." The vampire finally speaks.

Harry's gaze snaps up at that, stubborn protective urges ignited by the sentence. "No. You're going to eat. You have to." And then he realizes that maybe, just _maybe_ ordering the vampire around probably wasn't the best way to get him to eat. "… Please."

There's another silence before the vampire wordlessly acquiesces, grabbing one of the bags of blood – charmed to be more filling – and beginning to feed. Harry averts his eyes out of respect.

"I didn't know what blood type you like best." Harry says when he thinks the vampire is done feeding. "Or what clothes you would like. I hope these are fine – I mean. I can go get some more if you want."

The vampire runs his hands thoughtfully over the sloppily folded t-shirt and trousers Harry had pulled from his closet. There's a smudge of blood at the corner of his lips. "Am I dead?"

"Well … you're a vampire, so technically … yes." Harry isn't sure how he's supposed to say that _'yes, you were dead, but I brought you back to life. Or undead death. Whatever. You were completely dead and now you're not. Congrats.'_

"Are you death?" The vampire asks, a hint of a smile curling his lips, like he's thinking of a joke Harry doesn't know.

Harry thinks of the talk he had with Death two weeks ago, in which the entity had proclaimed Harry it's Master. His heart stops. "No. I'm not. No, I am _not_ Death. But … I am – I mean … I think that I might've brought you back?"

The vampire doesn't reply. Light eyes trace over Harry's features, curious, open – just slightly vulnerable. It makes Harry want to spill all of his secrets. Instead, Harry clears his throat and looks down at his wringing hands. "You never did say your name. I'm Harry … Potter. I'm sorry I got you mixed up in this."

The vampire smiles at that, just a tiny quirk of his lips. It makes his eyes shine. "Godric. My name is Godric."

* * *

When Eric wakes, it is slowly, luxuriously, becoming aware of his surroundings immediately, even as he doesn't open his eyes. He is hungry, but not ravenous. He can wait a little longer to eat.

It takes him a few moments to realize something is off.

He sucks in an unneeded breath when he realizes what is so different about this evening.

For a thousand years, Eric has lived with the faint connection to Godric at the back of his mind. He's never thought much about it, and after the first few centuries, he'd had it much longer than he'd been without it. The bond was warm, a constant comfort when he wasn't in the presence of his maker.

It was ripped away from him when Godric committed suicide.

That warmth turned emptiness, turned to sorrow, turned to anger.

Godric had _left_ him – and this time, there was no comforting bond, jagged, sharp edges taking its place where once there had been a soothing awareness.

Eric has lived for a thousand years with Godric at the back of his head. He has lived for only weeks without.

That's why, when he wakes, and there is a familiar warmth in his head, he doesn't think anything of it – but then he remembers that Godric is dead, and this must be punishment for failing to save his maker.

There is simply no other explanation.

So, he tamps down on the rush of emotions and carefully doesn't think about the warmth thrumming at the back of his brain.

And he exhales.

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Next chapter will have Godric and Harry discovering their bond and talking about Godric's death. Probably.

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I'm lunaerum over on tumblr and twitter. Give me a follow if you'd like!

R&R please! Positive feedback/your thoughts on this chapter would be great. Thank you!


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